


every road leads home

by kuro49



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Bottom Jason Todd, Multi, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale, Pseudo-Incest, Sloppy Seconds, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, butt plug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: It is spelled out in the little things that take just as little for a detective like him to put together.





	every road leads home

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by dick's line in the titans finale "it feels so good to be home".
> 
> this is especially dedicated to the jaydick ship wank tagged _into_ the jaydick tags because if it wasn't for you, i wouldn't have spite written something so porny. and ofc, thank you to stevieraebarnes for encouraging me to spite write.

 

The worlds Trigon places into the palms of Richard Grayson's hands have him choosing one of many.

In one, Batman goes bad, and Dick with him when he makes that killing blow.

In another, he comes close, and Dick finds himself thinking that if it leads to blood on his hands, there is probably something noble to have it be Bruce's blood on his. In the power that Trigon runs through him, he has him living and reliving the same challenge. A constant that Dick finds in every single one of these worlds.

It is about making it out of the dark. And in the reality that follows through with Trigon's defeat, he does.

He gets out, and he chooses to come home. Out from the chill of the late Gotham night, Wayne Manor is warm where it never was before. The lamps in the hallways are all lit up, keeps every corner from fading into black. In quite the literal sense, it has Dick seeing a version of this house in another light.

The first night home, he sleeps alone.

 

The next night, and the night after, and then the night after that too, he observes in the cave.

Scans the screens of the Batcomputer while the encrypted police radio channel chatters on in the background. He watches and he listens, and he reminds himself that this isn't some kind of personal hell, a kind of self-assigned punishment because.

This is not permanent.

He is not grounded for good. It's just— Gotham has no need for two Robins taking flight, and Dick has no intention of donning the Robin colours again.

He works with that as a starting point, thinking on a colour that isn't on Robin.

 

"The blue—"

"Don't say it, Jason." Dick warns him as Robin comes crashing over to the work table almost as soon as the Batmobile's gear slides into park. The kid looks ruined in his clothes with dried blood in his hair and his split lip still bleeding sluggishly.

"I like it." Jason tells him, holding the shortest pause for that intended emphasis, grinning with all his teeth at Dick before barreling right through. "It matches your eyes."

He tells him, not even a hint of embarrassment to a single syllable.

Bruce makes a noise. It's faint and slight but it carries in the cave. Jason beams, blinking slow and deliberate at Dick in shared recognition. Because that passes for a laugh if Dick's ever heard Bruce sound quite like _this_. Dick isn't so sure if this isn't an airborne poison that has the contagious heat settle so permanently in his core because he is grinning in return.

With the domino mask gone from Jason's face, black makeup around his eyes smeared and smudged, Dick closes his fingers around the wrench on the tabletop so he doesn't reach out to make it worse. Instead, Dick points out when Jason starts touching the electric blue fabric reinforced with zylon fibers.

"You're a lil'shit. You know that, right?”

Jason only laughs.

 

Even after all this time, Dick still reads Bruce like an open book cracked at the spine.

"He's good for you." Dick admits when the sound of water starts up from the showers and Jason is gone from glancing between the two of them. Left alone with Bruce, Dick has always imagined this encounter to be a lot more painful given the history. "Even if you think you're no good for him."

"That obvious?" Bruce asks, his cowl is off but the rest of the bat remains.

"It's not that hard, Bruce." Dick lowers his gaze, down to the tools in his hands and the electric blue of his trial run costume and tries not to draw parallels. "Or, did you forget that I know you?"

Dick is careful not to have his fingers go tracing the place where Bruce had put in the tracker without his knowledge. There are no scars to serve as a reminder, they are much too careful for that. But it is in knowing the precision it took and the weighed intention that ensures they both know exactly what was done.

"You can't control everything." Dick continues, knows this as their demise every time when they can go in circles all night long and still quite never get to the core of it all.

"I can try." Bruce says, back turned to him.

The zipper of the suit is pulled down, reaches midway down Bruce's spine and Dick doesn't wonder if any one of those scars could have ended Batman if things had been different. Dick focuses on the stiff line, eyes tracking over how each vertebrae locks up with tension to hold itself in those shoulders. His head is tipped, his hand is shown, and he is asking Bruce to do the same.

"Has that ever ended well for you?"

"You're here, aren't you?" Bruce turns to him, in finality. And, they are face to face as the water shuts off in the next room.

The hint of a smile twisting over Bruce's mouth is just about the brightest thing Dick's seen in a long while.

 

Because, well, the truth they've beaten all around is this: _Partner_.

When Bruce leans over the work bench table top, Dick meets him halfway with a kiss that isn't entirely desperation even if it feels a lot like he is holding on to a lifeline here.

(He isn't the only one.)

 

The kid is the same energy Dick remembers from Detroit. Spinning around in the chair until it creaks, turning to face him instead of facing down the patrol report he is supposed to be finishing up.

"Hey br—"

He does not miss _this_ , not when the kid's intention is clear as day.

"Don't call me that."

"But you're—"

Dick shakes his head, cuts Jason off before he can continue with a roll of his eyes to challenge him right back. "Do you call Bruce dad?"

In hindsight, it could be misconstrued to be a calculated stab in the dark aiming for a low blow. But Dick will own up to a mistake when it comes with consequences quite unlike anything he imagined to step knee-deep into. Not when the silence that answers is telling.

Enough to have him looking up from where he is making sure the circuit to the taser on the end of his modified baton works as intended. Jason is staring at him with his head tipped to the side like he is considering something significant, weighing options that Dick didn't even know were on the table in those big wide eyes.

And it is when his grin finally curls into something wicked that Dick understands the full weight of Jason's conviction when he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it."

Dick imagines he should be hearing warning bells, ringing something loud and piercing in his ears, but he has always had a habit of running head first into danger. Or, so he keeps telling himself when he is focusing on all the wrong things with Jason standing up in that thin loose tank top and the smell of the cave's shared shampoo lingering across his skin.

"And when is that, Jay?" Dick asks, a hard swallow, and he knows this as a challenge he is not about to win.

Jason comes up next to him, not nearly close enough to touch but enough that Dick can feel the heat coming off of him, can see the water dripping from the ends of Jason's hair.

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you like I had to with B, _bro_?"

 

Except, it is spelled out.

Almost painstakingly so in the little things that takes just as little for a detective like Dick Grayson to put together if he tried at all.

Bruce's hand, broad and warm, leeching heat from Jason's skin when he touches the small of his back as he passes him. Jason's eyes, blown wide and dark, staring in the way he does, the plead loud enough to have Dick making the choice to look away from the thin rings of blue-green.

 

Bruce with his devotion and Jason with intent.

Dick has no idea how he didn't see it sooner.

 

His hair is the same wreck as Dick remembers from Detroit.

Looking like he's had fingers pulled through them, and Dick wants them to be his.

(His fingers with his knuckles going white when he curls them into Jason's hair, gripping the strands and pulling at the curls until he has Jason arching his head back, baring his throat to show off the bump of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly under Dick's observations.

His, his, and always _his_.)

"You," Dick starts and it is like that same conversation from the passenger seat of a car he is never getting back, "and Bruce."

"I wasn't lying to you then." Jason says from where he is standing at the end of Bruce's bed, with ease in his shoulders like he's been here many times before. "Bruce and I were always going to happen, but you and Bruce?" He laughs a little, the sound soft between his lips, softer still when he bites down on the jut of his bottom lip, like he doesn't know if this is his place to say. "You guys are the real deal."

Jason makes it sound like they are meant to be, Batman and Robin and everything that came of it. Jason is not all wrong, Dick hasn't been what Bruce needed in a long time now, but what they are is more complicated than that. "We are not some kind of—"

"I thought you were quicker on the uptake than this, Dickie." Jason presses on, one knee folding beneath him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "I've waited long enough for this."

Dick goes to him, walks those last few steps until there is barely any room between them. Jason is shifting back until he is fully up on the bed, both knees kneeling atop Bruce's sheets in anticipation.

 

He tips his head, he parts his lips, and he reaches out to snag a hand into Dick's shirt until there is no space for any kind of misinterpretation.

When Jason kisses him, Dick gives him full control. There is nothing tentative to it, not when Jason bears down on the pressure, drawing Dick into his mouth before going lax. His lips are soft and yielding when he's made all his demands, opens up wide for Dick's tongue and it is kind of messy and a lot sloppy.

Dick thinks he could fall in love with a mouth like this.

 

Jason likes kissing, Dick learns all too quickly when he has him bodily pressed down into the mattress, their mouths a frenzy.

And Dick doesn't expect that even if it does make sense when he pulls back an inch to breathe, glancing down to see the fan of Jason's lashes and his mouth all wet and swollen and still parting just for him. Jason Todd makes a very different kind of Robin than Dick ever was, and he feels a fair amount of guilt that he couldn't see this from the start.

"Want to turn over for me?" Dick asks, arousal in place of anything else when Jason is moving on his request, turning on his stomach and tilting his hips up until he has his knees steady under him. His shorts ride up to expose the expanse of his skin, the strap of his tank top sliding off of one shoulder in his languid movement.

"I'll do anything you ask." Jason tells him the truth, turning his head to the side on Bruce's sheets, the slide of satin across his cheek.

Fabric dark and in stark contrast to the freckles across his cheeks.

Dick's fingers touching skin then cloth, has the shorts coming off with ease as the elastic band stretches over the jut of those hips, pooling at Jason's knees. Jason's flush goes all the way down, and Dick can easily track the bruises in the shape of hand prints against the inside of his thighs and more imprints curling like a claim over the curve of his ass.

It is an easy story to put together but that isn't what holds all of Dick's attention because.

"You went out there with—"

Jason laughs hard enough to have his shoulders shaking, eyes waned and crinkled in the corners. He lets out in between gasps, "you should see your face right now, bro."

His skin is flushed so bright, going fever hot even as his laughter breaks down into eager little keens when Dick traces a finger down the cleft of his ass to the solid black base of the plug buried inside of him. The keens turn into a groan that is loud and long when Dick grips the base to ease it out by a fraction of an inch.

"Jason, you cannot be calling me _bro_ right now." Dick says in all seriousness, slow tortuous little twists that makes the noises catch in Jason's throat. He pulls it out, far enough to see the stretch of Jason's hole and the tight clutch of it in his body before he pushes it back in just to hear the breath shuddering out of the kid.

He teases him, reducing him to a breathy shaky mess when he finally tosses the plug off to the side only to replace it with his finger, watches as Jason with his hole swollen and used swallows that too. Dick can feel how wet Jason is and it isn't just lube.

"Greedy," he says, and Jason's expression says enough.

When he drags his fingers out, the calloused pads of his fingertips rubbing all along his inner walls, cum comes dripping out of him too.

 

"Like what I left for you?"

Dick hardly needs to turn around to know, just focuses on the way Jason is blinking back the haze in his eyes at the new voice in the room to find a very familiar shape standing by the door. Jason doesn't have many words left in him, but he still manages to get the last word in.

Jason's mouth curls into the most reckless grin and Dick can't help but be charmed by that. 

"You sure took your sweet time, old man."

 

The door clicks shut for a final time behind Bruce.

 

Bruce's satin sheets are a wreck beneath them.

Jason is soaking wet between the legs, dripping a mess in Dick's lap. He doesn't reach back to hold himself open, waiting and wanting for one of them to finally push inside of him already only because Dick is keeping him in place. The first Robin's hands closing down where Bruce's were when they had fucked on the hood of the Batmobile before patrol, Dick's fingerprints pressing down to fit so neatly into Bruce's claim, blooming that familiar sweet ache all the way to his bones.

Dick's fingers are slender but they hold the same strength, keeps him from fucking himself back against the grind of Dick's cock at the small of his back.

"He's a handful."

Like a rabid little dog that bites, Jason is vicious.

Dick doesn't look away when Bruce kisses Jason with tongue, can't when Jason sinks his teeth down against the muscle without any pause, swallows Bruce's groan of pain for all it's worth. And it's worth plenty when that is the Bat of Gotham yielding underneath his show of force.

"I'm more than a han—" Jason pulls back and it takes Bruce's hand at Jason's jaw and Dick's arms coming to curl around Jason's middle to keep the kid from toppling over when he is moving so suddenly.

"You're not kidding, B."

There is something to that, in a room where even the Bat of Gotham is stripped down to just his skin, scars on every surface. 

"I don't kid, Dick."

Dick thinks he is finally seeing Bruce after all these years. A myth rendered to just the man. And all of him here for them, Gotham nowhere in sight if he focuses on just this. Dick can't help it, he feels a little weak at the knees because _god_ , does he miss this. Pressing his mouth to the back of Jason's neck, Dick's lips are curled into the start of a smile when he sucks a bruise to the sweat slicked skin.

Reduced down to their base instincts, it isn't just understood as some resemblance of love to orphan boys like them.

 

Again and again, he sees the shine.

Of the wet sheen across his mouth, of sweat on his skin, of slick smeared against the rim of his hole and precum dripping from his cock.

"Can we fuck _now_?" Jason asks, bluntly but not quite harshly, impatience working its way into every word. His demeanor rough, his attitude a tough thing to swallow even as he opens wide for it.

"Jay," Dick's breath hitches because he can see the taut line of control in the muscles of Jason's back, can tell how hard the kid is trying not to reach out for Bruce, "did you really have to ask?"

"Bruce likes it when I do." Jason tells him on a drawn out gasp, the words quite literally fucked out of him as Dick pushes into him.

He is eager and Dick exchanges kiss after kiss with Bruce just to make Jason wait for the satisfaction while he takes and takes his fill.

When Bruce finally eases back from the kiss, Dick pulls out until just the head of his cock is still pressing insistently inside of Jason. And, it is like Bruce and Dick are fighting the same fight all over again, not working against each other but with each other when they push into him together, filling Jason up from both ends, meeting little resistant on each as he opens up to them.

The word _sin_ comes to mind.

Dick breathes out noisily at how good it feels, the tight hot clutch of Jason's body, the half-lidded gaze Bruce settles over them both when Jason swallows him down to the hilt in one go, his mouth stretched obscenely wide around the girth. There is no imagining how familiar they are with one another, not when he can see the way Jason is moving his head, the movements minute and slow, his knuckles going bone white as they clutch at the sheets beneath them while his throat works.

Bruce looking affected, nearing possessive when he brushes a curl of unruly hair from Jason's eyes. And that in itself is a sight that draws Dick in closer, starting the first motion to move, like they've done this a million times before.

Like he doesn't already have a snag in him, burrowed deep and taking root when he fits, right here, with them. 

 

All the nights after, he follows the same road home.

 


End file.
